Pairs with:

Statement from the Artist:

Lady Playing Mandolin (1992) and A Rose Arose (2024) are two of my teachers.

Lady Playing Mandolin taught me the language of observation. Inspired by Feuerbach's The Mandolin Player, a painting in an art calendar so vivid I could almost hear the music, I attempted my own version despite knowing little about painting the figure. At the time, I was painting from the outside in, striving for accuracy without realizing that I was also teaching myself to see.

When I painted A Rose Arose as a copyist at the Metropolitan Museum, my approach had changed. Instead of seeing the figure as a collection of forms, I tried painting from the inside out, seeking to capture the woman’s essence. The vocabulary of painting had become richer, more nuanced.

Together, these paintings trace the arc of an artistic journey that may have begun during a hospital stay, when I found myself drawing constantly—perhaps out of boredom, perhaps because Fate was quietly playing her hand. Curious about Old Masters’ techniques, I learned about glazing and decided to begin Lady Playing Mandolin in black and white before adding color. Enjoying the monochromatic look, I never glazed it. Only years later did I realize that I had been teaching myself values, form, and anatomy.

In the years between these paintings, painting often yielded to raising a family and a career in law, yet the desire to create persisted. I continued studying, taking classes, exploring everything from Realism to Impressionism to Graffiti, always observing, always learning.

Then, about five years ago, an art podcast asked a simple question: "What do you want?"

I closed my eyes and saw paintings living under my skin—paintings that would never emerge unless I painted them.

Everything changed. I sought out teachers, traveled to Florence and applied to the copyist program.

My greatest teachers have been observation, the Old Masters, and my own paintings. Painting is the language through which I speak most clearly. Like any language, its purpose is to be understood— inviting a quiet conversation between artist and viewer that continues long after they have walked away.